now

i was an x and a y
joined abed with clover
the sky fell upward
in that way it does
when you haven't stared into it
for a time unrecalled
it did this and my eyes had to
shut to find movement
parallel to me
perpendicular
to the northwest where
there never once was a city
when does a city stop being a city
and a park become a meadow
and hope something
to reminisce?
this sky risen is the same sky
that held green kites
and gave the sun full trespass
that season i thought i always knew you
when i forced novelty into a two-leaf
clover and smiled only with my face
if i was lost then (i am sorry)
i have no idea where you are now
when the ride left

you were not there

summer starts

the cottonwoods are snowing
soft against an eaglet screech.
see the mountains trying to melt
spitting slight puffs upward. they are
reaching with arrows pointing to 
pure white dollops of wet whip
reminding they'll make rain again.
smell the cottonwoods.
they waft as their seedpods an airy drift
aimless like beachgoers like sunbathers
hoping work never finds them
hoping the great fire only rests to
give their taught skin sleep to heal.
weave this cotton and join them
the sun sets every day yet
it is not always this beautiful.